


lonely road

by orphan_account



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arrest, Backstory, Canon Backstory, Gen, Implied Child Abuse, No Fluff, Snow, assignment for school, babys first fic, injuries, minor amount of blood, winter weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-08 01:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16420130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Dally was the kind of person who would only smile if something bad had happened to him, so he did. He gave the woman a huge grin, one that curled his lips and showed off his nice teeth that he worked hard to keep clean. The roughed-up kid was someone that other neighborhood kids feared, but Dallas was always respectful to the older ladies. It was the charm that only Dallas Winston could possess."When Dallas Winston was ten years old, he was arrested and brought to prison - but how and why?





	lonely road

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first fanfiction ever, but it is my first Outsiders fanfiction. Dally is my favorite character, and I wanted to write about his vague backstory that Hinton left for us to interpret. Hope you enjoy!

Like most cities, New York had been bustling with life and industry since it had came into existence. 1958 was the year, and snow had begun to fall on the busy sidewalks in the many burrows of the city. The air felt frigid and cold, wind blowing against the rosy cheeks of city-dwellers - those of whom were dressed head to toe in warm clothes. Snow was falling slowly, in no rush to coat the sidewalk with its dewy, flaky presence. Storefront doors had begun to get frozen shut due to the cold weather that had so quickly came upon the unsuspecting owners. Almost every turn one could make though, children were playing street hockey and snowball fights abundant. 

 

Dallas Winston, ten years old, wished that he could be throwing snowballs with all of his might at some of the neighborhood kids that pissed him off, or knocking the teeth off of them with his homemade hockey stick - cause Ma couldn’t afford to buy him the one that the big guys used on the televisions he saw in window stores. Instead of doing either of those things, Dallas (or Dally, he preferred) was walking to the pharmacy with a bum leg.

 

The young boy had been mumbling under his breath through gritted teeth, however one thing escaped his mouth every time it came across his mind. 

 

“Deadbeat...” spoken like it was poison on his tongue, spitting it out into the snowy sidewalk and melting the snow. Dally almost  _ wished _ his spit was poisonous, he wished it could erode anything it came into contact with - because his father would be covered in spit.

 

Speaking of his father, the way his leg felt only fueled the bitter fire in his heart. Dally’s father was always much too rough with the boy, beating him for things that Dallas couldn’t have possibly any control over - the overwhelming amount of unpaid bills on the table, work woes ... Dally had no idea how he, such a young boy, could have helped his family with any of those things. 

 

Before he could ponder any longer on the aggravating actions of his father, the pain in his leg shot up into his spine like a firecracker - exploding at the base of his neck in sheer, unbridled pain.

 

Dally cursed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and throwing one of his arms to clap over the pained area. The hairs on the back of his neck felt like they were melting, and Dally briefly considered running into the center of the road to get hit by a car - the pain was that immense. The young boy slowly opened his eyes back up, normally blazing blue eyes seemingly quenched from the amount of hurt he was. The pharmacy was in view, only a few more steps and he’d get the medicine.

 

Dally’s eyes unfocused and became blurry for a moment, causing his heart rate to quicken briefly. Mind hazy, neck burning with pain, and the bitter taste of his father’s abuse on his tongue, the young boy continued his journey to the run-down pharmacy.

  
  


The cold had gotten to Dallas easily, as his leather jacket and off-white wife beater was the only thing protecting his torso from the wild New York city weather. 

 

He noisily entered the establishment, welcoming bell clanging above him and the sound reverberated throughout his body - weaker and weaker, was he becoming because of his damn father ...

 

“Hello there! What can I do for you?” A woman’s voice called to him from the back of the store, past the multitude of shelves lined with all types of pharmaceutical drugs. 

 

Dallas squinted, but his eyebrows furrowed so the look he gave the woman was a lot more threatening and dangerous - almost like a deep glare, full of hatred and spite. “I needa....some of that, you know...”

 

She cocked her head to the side, watching him limp up to the counter in his raggedy, holy jeans and dirty leather jacket. To anyone, including the woman herself, Dallas was clearly in much rougher condition than he appeared to be feeling. 

 

“No...I don’t know.” she answered lightly, a smile threatening to form upon her lips. Joking was not something extremely appropriate in this situation, but hopefully the young boy would smile back, and she’d feel much better about looking at him.

 

Dally was the kind of person who would only smile if something bad had happened to him, so he did. He gave the woman a huge grin, one that curled his lips and showed off his nice teeth that he worked hard to keep clean. The roughed-up kid was someone that other neighborhood kids feared, but Dallas was always respectful to the older ladies. It was the charm that only Dallas Winston could possess.

 

“Course you don’t, my leg feels like it’s on fire if that helps ya any.”

 

The woman nodded, and turned around to search through the shelf behind her for the painkillers. Meanwhile, Dally was now leaning up against the counter - partly because he wanted to look cool, but more so because his leg could barely hold up the rest of his body weight. His mind couldn’t help but float back to the events that had led him to have this searing pain running through his body, staring off at a cardboard box decorated with what looked like a happy family - he scoffed.

 

No family looked like that. At least not here. Where dads beat their kids for not going to school or paying the taxes, or moms sold themselves on the corners of streets just to pay those bills - only to end up hooked on crazy drugs or leaving the others for some rich guy who lives upstate.

 

Dally did not want to think about how his dad beat him, or told him that he would never amount to anything. It made his stomach churn with bile threatening to rise up in his throat. If Dally could, he’d be the man of the house and give his mom the life she deserved. But then again, his mom would just ...  _ watch _ as Dallas wailed for his father to stop hitting, slapping, kicking him. He didn’t know how to feel about that, he didn’t know how to feel about a lot of things that happened to him.

 

“Alright, here you go. That’ll be twenty dollars.” She punched a few buttons on the store’s dinky cash register and looked at him expectantly. Dally, unfazed, grabbed the bag containing the medicine. The crinkle felt smooth under his calloused hands, and he looked back up at the woman who had been nothing but nice to him.

 

“That’s good for ya.” Dally limped out of the store smoothly, leaving the woman at the counter to sputter as he exited - the bell sounding behind him. 

 

As soon as he felt the brisk air against his face, Dallas began hyperventilating. 

 

_ Why would you do that?! You should’ve just told her you didn’t have any money ... women love guys who are vulnerable and all that crap— _

 

Of course, the police in New York were always on standby, so sirens rang throughout the air. Dally’s breathing picked up even more - if possible - and he began to pick up the speed of his legs. His dad would absolutely annihilate him if he found out that Dally had been found out by those pigs, but then again - Dallas could care less about what his father thought about him.

 

Bum legs were not good to try and run on, Dally found out as more and more pain shot up through his body and tears cascaded his cold face like a never-ending waterfall. He could hear the police cars park, tires screeching against the pavement loudly. 

 

Giving up, Dally cried out in anguish. He was done for, they would find him and he would go to jail. No friends, complete isolation, no family.

 

A rough body, much larger than his came up from behind him - Dallas could feel the impending doom set inside his soul when he felt a gruff voice give him directions, gather his wrists behind his back, and the cold clang of handcuffs echoed in Dally’s brain the whole ride to juvenile prison - just outside of New York city.

 

The bag of painkillers lay stagnant on the sidewalk, soon to be covered in a thick layer of winter snow. Only small droplets of blood painted the area around it, like splotches of red tears.

 


End file.
